The Legend of An Argonian
by Dev'd Pij Vastern
Summary: After being kicked from Skyrim, Dev'd Vastern -a deadly accurate Argonian- and Derkeethus seek shelter in Black Marsh, though both soon realize that the province is not the safe haven they'd been looking for. Black Marsh is shocked to hear that the Nords are marching across the continent, hoping to take the Argonian province for good...


_**Disclaimer: The Elder Scroll Series is not owned by me, but by Bethesda Softworks.**_

_** Dev'd Vastern, and others - besides Derkeethus - are owned by me.**_

**H**e hadn't expected it. It had gone by so fast, Dev'd didn't realize what had happened until a scream reached his ears.

Delg'u lay on the floor, head down, right hand on her chest. He rushed over to her, yelling at Shab to rush over and Derkeethus to cover them.

Shab placed both hands on Delg'u's chest, placing pressure on the wound.

Dev'd held her hand in his, softly calming her with encouraging words. He heard Derkeethus fire a bolt from his crossbow, followed by a yell for help soon after.

"Damn Nords, can't they leave us alone? It's bad enough they have their boom sticks, now they're in Argonian territory." Dev'd heard Derkeethus mumble as he fumbled with a bolt.

Dev'd looked over at Delg'u, and calmly told her, "Delg'u, you're going to be okay. We'll get you to the shaman, and we'll-"

"Dev'd, you and your damn promises. Always knew you'd be the death of me." She interrupted, giving a raspy laugh.

Dev'd smirked, "My promises are the only thing that have kept you from killing me, so I'll keep going. C'mon, we need to get you to Qen't."

He lifted her over his back, studied the war-torn landscape, and walked away from the battle that still raged Yontorey...

**Three Months Earlier...**

"So, that's it then? We're leaving?" Derkeethus asked. Dev'd looked over at him, brow raised in alarm.

"Didn't you hear them? 'The Dragonborn is endangering our people.' They said that if I left Skyrim, the dragons would follow me out. Damn cowards." He began stuffing his backpack with food, Derkeethus slightly nodding, "Then, where are you expecting to leave to? Skyrim's our home, we could just live with the-"

"Dawnguard? You know those guys kicked us out last month. Apparently, the same rules apply. 'As killer of Harkon, any remaining vampires will want you dead. If you leave, you won't risk our lives.'" Derkeethus gave a large sigh, and reached into a cabinet to get his pack.

"You bringing your crossbow?" Dev'd asked.

Suddenly looking at it, he shrugged and said, "Yeah. What else should I bring?"

Dev'd studied his backpack and said, "Well, I'm packing food and our map. That's all we really need. Pick out whatever you want, I just wanna leave before sundown."

"You still didn't answer my question Dev'd."

The black Argonian looked up at him, replying with a simple, "Black Marsh."

Derkeethus seemed agitated, brow raised in alarm, "You know that you'll endanger **our** people as well, right?"

Dev'd gave a loud huff, "Well, we have a lot more people than Skyrim. A better, larger, **and **friendly army as well. Black Marsh is our only hope. We both know that Elsweyr isn't an option, so are Morrowind and Cyrodiil."

He got up, brushing dust off his hands. He took a moment to look at them. Had it really been three years since he'd arrived in Skyrim? His hands used to look a very jet black, as well as his face and body. After a lot of wear and tear, they were now covered in small patches of dry blood, dirt, and began its aging process, becoming a tannish-black.

"Well, do we really want to keep the carriage waiting? We only have until sundown." Derkeethus said, with a smirk.

"You go, but have him wait just a few more minutes."

He gave a nod, and walked out with his pack.

Dev'd walked over to a small hatch in the alchemy room, opened it and retrieved the chest from inside. He fiddled with the lock, finally opening it with a lock pick.

The contents inside brought back old memories of life with the Dawnguard. Red with both dry blood and scratched paint, the shoulderless tunic made him crack a smile. He slipped it on, finding the matching gloves and boots as he fiddled with the straps. Picking up the Dragonbone sword he'd forged awhile back, Dev'd walked out of the room, blew the light out, and left Breezehome with his crossbow slung over his shoulder.

The carriage driver, a Redguard, sat in his front seat, holding the reins idly in his left hand, and his palm against his cheek with the right.

He perked up when he saw Dev'd, "Well, what's your destination, Argonian?"

"Black Marsh, sir." The Argonian replied, throwing a bag of gold to the Redguard.

Staring at his pay hungrily, the driver motioned for the Argonians to climb in with a wave of his hand.

Making sure everything was secure, the carriage sped off at a quick pace, away from Whiterun.

Derkeethus, who sat opposite of Dev'd, began to doze off.

The black Argonian sat in silence, watching his former home disappear along the horizon.

Giving a quiet sigh, he felt sleep gnawing at his eyelids.

He eventually gave in, falling into deep sleep.


End file.
